


The Fallout

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [15]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Hospitalization, Injury, Married Couple, Pregnancy, Revenge, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya bears the brunt of his wife's scheming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fallout

Reality comes to him in pieces—tiny fleeting pieces. He barely notices it at first. Swift shards of light puncture the velvety tranquility of his unconscious mind. It's like snow drifting on a capricious wind. Minutes pass in that strange limbo—conscious but not awake. The intermittent shimmers of the waking world lengthen as his senses reach out into the ether, searching his surroundings for signs of danger.

Reflexively, he flings an arm across the bed, and, as he is prone to doing, he scoops his arm back to his chest. The sensation of a soft mound elicits a deep breath. He expects to inhale a breath of white plum perfume. He expects to feel the warmth of his wife spark against the heat that slickens the skin.

What he gets is s _trawberries_  and the strangely soft but synthetic fabric of a polyester blend.

Taking in another gulp of air, his lips slope into a frown, and he grimaces. Indeed, the scent of strawberries and sugar nearly chokes him. The fragrance is abrasive, causing him to swallow hard to soothe his poor stinging throat.

 _Rukia?_ Indeed, Rukia smells of strawberries and sugar. His eyes fly open as the association crashes over him.

The sterile shades of a bleached world focus his attention, envelop him. In an instant, he realizes he is at the infirmary. The beeping and hissing of machines pull at the threads of his repose, and he observes the equipment lining his bed. Tubes run from the monitors to his arms… the same arms that clutch an oversized and overstuffed toy rabbit.

He breathes a shaky sigh of relief.

The alternative seems so much worse in comparison.

She must have given the doll to him out of some sense of familial love. He remembers seeing it once before. Yes, she was with Renji then. It was after the first of the Shiba's tragedies. Renji must have given her the toy for the same reason that she gave him the toy—for comfort.

He untangles himself from the stuffed animal and places it on a nearby desk.

"Your wife..."

He pauses, fingers hesitant to release the bunny as it teeters on the corner of the table.

He knows that growl. Despite the guttural sound, the voice belongs to a female. It is a captain—one who has seen the worst at greater length than he has.

"…told me to  _fuck off,_ " she finishes.

His eyes widen at the proclamation. The words—odious and not at all common in his presence—roil over him, needling him. Hisana would not have spoken such obscenity. If fifty-five years of abuse at the hands of his family had not driven her to it, nothing could. Certainly, not Captain Suì-Fēng.

_Right?_

The captain quickly reads and answers the question that bends his features into a quizzical configuration: "She has broken the terms of the agreement, and she will not relinquish her hold over the property that is rightfully ours."

Nothing.

He is drawing a blank, now.

His gaze narrows, fixing the captain, as he studies her fiery mien and even more heated sentiments. He feels as if he has fallen into the middle of a very ugly two-way conversation. There is little to ground him—terms, an agreement, and broken promises. Knowing his wife, it could be  _anything_.

But, it isn't  _anything_.

It is something. A very angry something. A something that is breathing down his neck and demanding that  _he_ resolve it.

His wife, however, has no dealings with the Gotei 13. At least, nothing he can recall. Hisana keeps the squads at an arm's length. She prefers the Powers That Be to be separate even despite the forces that insist on bringing them colliding together on the regular.

But, there must be a contract. With the Gotei 13. And, she has triggered some provision. Worse yet, she has broken her end of the bargain—something that seems very uncharacteristic of his wife. He keeps repeating this fact pattern to himself, hoping, futilely, the repetition will elicit some far-flung memory from the trenches of his mind.

"Her rights to the towers have been reassigned to  _us_."

Towers?

It only takes a millisecond for the brunt of her words to impact him.

Now, he remembers the compact. The Five Families agreed to an arrangement whereby the Gotei 13 would not take possessory interest in the monitoring protocol  _unless_  one of the families used the data for offensive purposes. "Offensive," if he remembers correctly, was construed  _very broadly_. Should one of the families use the monitoring system offensively, then the Gotei 13 would take possession of the offending family's share, allowing the family to retain only the profits.

If Suì-Fēng is correct, then the Gotei 13 has possessory interest in two shares of the monitoring system—the Kuchiki and Shiba. Or, at least, the Gotei 13  _thinks_  it has possessory interest in two shares. Likely, if his wife were to do something rash, she would have assigned the Shiba's portion to another family. Fast maneuvering was not beyond her. Shortly after the Shiba's fall and subsequent exile, Hisana had managed to liquidate and assign the family's financial interests to the Kuchiki before the Chambers could seize the funds for themselves.

"I will speak to Hisana about this matter," he says confidently.

"Please do. I would  _hate_  to bring this issue before the Central 46 for adjudication. It would be disgraceful."

He has the distinct impression that Suì-Fēng would  _relish_  the opportunity to bring this contract dispute before the Central 46. He, however, does not push the issue. There is simply no point.

"I will see to it that this dispute is resolved amicably." He channels his father in a rare moment of studied diplomacy.

"Good." There is a strong undercurrent of,  _'You better,'_  undulating in her voice, but she does not say it outright. Instead, she pins him with a glacial stare.

He could take lessons.

When her glare relents, she turns on her heels and swaggers through the door.

Byakuya's gaze centers on the door to his room a few moments longer before his eyes drop to the floor where Chappy has fallen. He grimaces at the toy, but he picks it up nonetheless. Heaving a small sigh, he sets it on the table where he notices a small note and envelope.

He unfolds the note and instantly recognizes his wife's calligraphy. It reads,  _'Enclosed please find the remuneration for Renji and his friends' acts of bravery and triumph.'_

Byakuya's eyes widen, and his lips part.

There are so many loosely defined words with so many grave implications.

Somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, his heart beats a quick throbbing rhythm. He does not wish to know the what, where, why, who, and how of this particular story. His imagination is too quick to fill in the gaps.

He does not bother with the envelope. He does not need to know the extent of his price. From his conversation with the Captain of the Second, he has a good estimate already. He is merely content with knowing that at some point, later in the day, Renji and "his friends" will come seeking their reward.

He only hopes they do not bring proof of their  _"bravery and triumph."_

They do not.

They never come at all.

According to Rukia, who visits him in the early evening, the brave ones and Renji went directly to Hisana for their reward.

He does not inquire after it.

"The monsters are gone, Brother. It was gory," Rukia elaborates, unprovoked. She would know. Renji likely apprised her of everything.

He does not encourage her even though he senses she would prefer to continue. He thinks she is disturbed by her sister's capacity for brutality.

He is not.

Rukia, however, has always straddled a precarious line—that of solider and that of adolescent. To her, donning the Shihakushō and cuddling a stuffed rabbit are not only compatible but normal. There is no dissonance for her.

There is dissonance for him.

She seems childlike sitting at his bedside. Her wide blue eyes timidly meet his gaze in fleeting glances. Her color rises if she stares a moment longer than she feels is necessary. She clutches her plushie to her chest for comfort, as if the chill of his presence is too much for her to bear at times.

If her hands were not calloused from years of wielding a sword, she would seem very young indeed. If she did not wear the shades of a Shinigami, she would be no different than the countless adolescent girls that mill around the market. She wears her innocence carelessly, and she clings to her status as a solider just as brazenly.

It disarms him.

"You may return to the manor, Rukia," he says softly, hoping her absence will give him a moment to refocus his thoughts. For some reason, he finds her expectations of him unreasonably troubling.

She nods her head. Ever obedient. Ever eager to do as he bids. Even when he is wrong. And, he is fallible. Intensely so. She must know this, he hopes.

Yet, as she bows, he has a sinking feeling that she does not think it possible for him to be anything other than godlike.

But, he is no god.

Not even close.

"Sister!" Rukia calls, half-surprised and half-excited at her discovery.

Indeed, Hisana pauses at the threshold and nods. "Rukia," she acknowledges her sister with loving intonations.

Rukia bows her head.

Rukia responds to Hisana with less reverence but with a love that is more filial. Hisana is fallible—she makes mistakes. Her mistakes are expected and understandable. Her errors are humanizing, and her humility proves to be the glue that bonds the two sisters.

He wishes Rukia would see him in a similar light because false gods have a tendency of falling.

Once Rukia bids them good night, he turns to his wife. "You've been busy." He hopes to sound sufficiently disapproving, but he falls flat when he feels the gentle flutter of his wife's reiatsu against his.

She sits at his bedside. Her hands do not hesitate in finding his own. The heat of her palms warms him, but he tries all the same to refuse her eye contact. She has defied his express wishes to avoid all stressful activities. She has sacrificed family investments. She has placed herself and the children in harm's way. And for what purpose?

Petty revenge.

"I could say the same about you," she teases, eyes darting across the row of machines that keep him chained in the bed.

"A foreseeable hazard."

"Your foreseeable hazard becomes my foreseeable hazard."

"I would never require you to," he begins, but, as soon as he meets her gaze, he falls into the dark tranquil depths therein.

Words just don't seem to matter, then. The admonishments, which were whipping across his tongue only seconds ago, dissipate. The breath squeezes from his chest, and his mind clears.

Where is he again?

She squeezes his hand. It is a simple act—one that brings him back. "What is done is done, milord."

He closes his eyes. Actively, he refuses the spell of slumber that plucks the threads of his conscious mind, threatening to pull the black curtain of deprivation across his senses. He has words—things he has been meaning to say—that silence cannot stifle. "Captain Suì-Fēng informed me of your maneuver earlier today."

"Which one?"

He cocks a brow and opens an eye. He is half-expecting her question to be made in jest. It, however,  _is not_.

His wife is perfectly sincere.

He represses the urge to glower. "The one about the broken agreement, towers, and possessory interests."

The corners of Hisana's lips curl into a half-hearted grin. "Oh,  _that one_ ," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Is it true that you refuse to abide by the contract's terms?"

Hisana nods. "For the time being, yes, milord."

"Do you believe you will succeed if Suì-Fēng brings her claim against our family to Chambers for adjudication?"

Hisana gives a long thoughtful shake of her head. "Not in the least. Captain Suì-Fēng would win on the merits."

His brows furrow at this. The obvious question— _Why?—_ seems less obvious as he contemplates the situation. If his wife is of the belief that their claim against the Gotei 13 is meritless, there must be another reason that she wishes to pursue this course of action. The question then becomes, "What is the purpose of stalling, Hisana?"

Her smile broadens at his insightfulness. "The Second is not the only division that is interested in the data, milord. The Twelfth will also join the Second in a claim."

"You hope the actual dispute will be between the divisions?"

She nods. "And while they are disputing the facts and carving up the power, I will have time to gather more data and create duplicates."

His gaze sharpens into a piercing glare at her use of the word,  _'I.'_

Catching his look, she lowers her head. "By  _I_ , I mean, of course, your very talented and astute  _cousin_."

The intensity of his gaze lessens, but only slightly. "I see. And the Shiba's shares?"

"Assigned to the Shihōin," she states matter-of-factly. "The family promises to maintain the same financial arrangement we currently have with the surviving members of the Shiba family."

Of course, his wife would see to it that the Shiba were provided for.

He nods approvingly before asking the question that has been needling him all day. "Did you really tell Captain Suì-Fēng to  _fuck off_?"

Hisana's eyes widen at his cautiously delivered crudeness. She is clearly taken aback by the question and its possible implication. "Absolutely not."

A small smile thins his lips.

"Should I've?"

**Author's Note:**

> A short, somewhat boring chapter. Hopefully, the next installment will have more interesting dynamics and get the ball rolling for the beginning of Bleach proper. Thanks for reading!


End file.
